


Thunder Only Happens When It’s Raining

by BakerGrey



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Ehhhh, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Minor Drug Use, Oral Sex, Smut, because it wouldn't be me without angst, high school trope sort of, like tiny, slightly disfunctional, the request was bad boy harry but tbh this is my really weird take on that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7160330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerGrey/pseuds/BakerGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is somewhat of an enigma, an independent soul with the wilfulness of a bull resisting the rage. He sees love as a blindfold, the process of falling leading to the bondage of hands behind his back, rope biting into his skin.<br/>Lucky for Harry, he’s always been a bit of a masochist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunder Only Happens When It’s Raining

**Author's Note:**

> My own take on a prompt that was requested. Let's just say I like to put my own spin on things.

 

His headphone is pulled from his ear as he waits in the far corner of the common room, knowing who he’s hoping it is and knowing _who_ it actually is.

“Hazza,” Louis grumbles and he’s been like this ever since Zayn decided that college wasn’t his thing two weeks ago, downhearted and sulking like a scorned lover who’s been cheated.

Harry wraps the white wire around his phone and tucks it away into his jacket pocket, thinking about how he’ll maybe renew his contract soon, upgrade to a classier version because that’s bound to make his life complete.

 He can smell the lingering stench of tobacco, but it’s a familiar scent, one that he associates with comfort and friendship and belonging even if he’s the most out of place creature.

Louis looks like he could use a good night’s sleep, Harry feels like it. He’s staring a little too hard at the dark shadows under blue eyes, thinks Louis looks gauntly with cheekbones that cut too high on his face.

“What have you got first?” He’s asking then, and it comes across as uninterested but only because it’s routine, the same thing they go through every bloody morning they meet.

“P.E,” His best mate replies, holding up his kit bag for emphasis and Harry acknowledges that, not at all envious, doesn’t think he’ll ever miss the rowdiness of the cluttered changing room.

“I’ve got English and then a free period,” He says, even though he’s not been asked, it’s too early for any real conversation; too early for Harry to really try to communicate anything worthwhile.

Lou rolls his shoulders back and Harry can see a ginger kid across the other end of the room glancing at them, like they’re the most revolutionary thing since sliced bread and it irks him because what, he’s got the right to exist just like everyone else.

He’s just in time to see Louis flipping a middle finger in his direction, and then the boy’s no longer all that intrigued but rather embarrassed, freckled face flushing a beet red that makes Harry feel queasy.

He can’t help but crack a smirk at that, shakes his head fondly because they’re right dicks and there’s nothing they can do to change that.

At least not at this rate.

 

**

 

If there’s one thing that makes Harry wish he wasn’t such a pessimist it’s him _._

_Niall Horan_.

So blonde and pale and Harry wants it but also doesn’t because he’s got no chance with Niall, not now, not ever and that’s enough to crush any optimism that might threaten to bloom within his mind.

You see, Harry _wants_ a lot of things.

He wants the Irish boy writhing against him and he wants to make Niall moan but fuck he doesn’t know why, doesn’t know why this one particular person grates on his libido so furiously.

He’s not used to being attracted to people, thinks it’s part of the reason why people see him as such a disassociated cunt, a rude boy who likes to wear black and only talks to other tattooed rude boys.

But Niall, sweet Niall, Harry would say anything to get his skin on Niall’s, slick of lips and rough hands, just enough to push him over the edge and then whether or not he really falls is his choice to make.

It’s easy to admire Niall, eyes too blue that Harry thinks if they ever cried there’d be thunder to accompany the sight.

The smooth slip of his nose that Harry can’t help but find endearing, thinks he’d like to stroke down the length of it because well, why not?

It’s like this every time, he gets hot under the collar, and then he’s completely gone, wrapped up in what ifs and desperately trying to make the boy sitting next to him want him too.

His large mouth moves of its own accord.

He wants to say something like ‘ _Niall baby I could be so good to you’_ but he doesn’t because that’s not who he is.

“Can I borrow a pen?”

It’s pitiful but Harry’s not the most functional person, never has been.

He can see Niall’s hand still against his paper, the way it twitches and he knows he’s got his attention but it’s not in a good way and it hurts a little because the attention Harry gets is never good.

“What’s wrong with yours?” He mumbles, and oh he’s so quiet.

He doesn’t believe in innocence but Niall seems to be his exception.

“It’s blue ink, I prefer black,” He’s casual, smooth like always but his head is a fucking mess, he’s pretty sure he was born with some mixed wiring.

Harry doesn’t need to look at Niall to know that he’s stunned, to know that he’s confused as to why Harry’s finally talking to him after months of sitting at this little table together, nothing more exchanged than a few tense glances and a silent understanding that speech was a no go.

“I- I’ve only got the one,” Niall replies in a hushed whisper, like he’s still trying to find his voice like he’s untrusting and Harry doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t trust himself.

The tall brunette thinks he can use this to his advantage though, the quiet, shuffles his chair closer to the blonde so that they’re arm to arm.

His gaze is steady as he looks into blue eyes but his mouth is slanting, half of it curling upwards in a somewhat wry smile and Niall is swallowing away any words that he may want to voice.

With the attention trained on his face, Harry grasps his hand and pushes the pen free, letting it fall with little clatter.

He’s still got Niall’s hand encased in his, can sense that the smaller boy is holding his breath, and it’s so intoxicating that Harry’s curses himself as he pushes him away because it’s exhilarating to finally touch him and mean it.

“Thanks,” He smiles invitingly now that the swap has been made; Harry thinks he’ll lick all traces of this pen later tonight.

Niall isn’t quick to speak; in fact he doesn’t say a word, much to Harry’s dismay, he simply uses the other pen and ignores their newfound proximity.

Harry decides that he really really likes English Literature.

 

**

 

“You’ve got no chance Haz,” Liam laughs half-heartedly “Tell him Tommo.”

They’re sat on a stonewall not far from the entrance of the sixth form, a safe distance so that they don’t get a bollocking for smoking. Harry likes the breeze that tickles his neck.

Louis inhales sharply and kicks Harry’s leg with his trainer clad foot, the worn soles softening the hit.

“Payno’s right, that Niall kid would never go for you.”

Harry huffs, and chews the inside of his cheek irritated, knowing that Louis will always side with Liam because the two of them are so far up each other’s arses. He also huffs because he knows it’s true, but he doesn’t need his friends telling him the obvious.

“I just think he’s shy is all.”

Louis snorts “I don’t think that’s the problem mate.”

Harry glares at him, eyebrows raised in a sort of silent question, because what exactly does Louis mean by that? Is Harry really that much of a bad guy? A reputation’s only words.

“We’re three of the most antisocial fucks at this place, the only reason we get away with it is because we’re all good to look at.”

Liam laughs at that, like full on laughs and Harry knows he’s doing it because it’s the truest thing Lou has ever come out with. Harry wishes it weren’t.

“And even if it were the case that he’s ‘shy’ then your all dimple smile and we should fuck attitude just isn’t going to fly.”

“I’m not a slut.” Harry frowns, because really he’s so disinterested in sex with anyone bar Niall, thinks that might be why he’s so desperate for him; because it’s the first real burning attraction he’s ever felt.

“What he means is that you’re going to have to be careful how you go about it,” Liam soothes, finally being helpful “You can’t go into this all guns blazing, you’ll scare him off, most likely get a fuck out of him and then he’ll hate both you and himself.”

Harry really doesn’t want that.

“But you also don’t want him thinking you’re obsessed with him or anything cringe worthy like that,” Louis adds.

Harry thinks about it for a second, he is _obsessed_ , and then his two friends are laughing simultaneously and he can hear Liam spluttering “No chance,” again.

 

**

 

Zayn is so zen, literally, he’s fluid and mellow and Harry thinks that if he were any younger he’d probably worship the ground Zayn walks on because he’s the one person Harry knows that will listen to it all.

He brings fucking serendipity to Harry after a long day with tweedledee and dum.

“Paradise,” He finally greets once he’s safely surrounded by the four grey walls of Zayn’s bedroom, so typically Zayn that Harry had nearly choked when he’d first seen it after refurbishment.

“Where’s Tommo?” The darker boy asks immediately with a pout, because he’s obviously missing Louis too, and he’ll readily admit it.

Harry feels sad for him then, sighs and casts him a sympathetic look “He’ll come around, he just feels a bit betrayed.”

Zayn nods, looks a bit sullen because his friendship with Louis has always been a special one, so perfectly compatible that Harry had almost been sure they were soulmates, if he’d believed in them that was.

Harry’s pretty sure Zayn’s convinced Liam is going to take his place. That’ll never happen, they both know that but Zayn’s always been a bit insecure and Harry won’t say it but Louis is being a bit of an arsehole, because in hindsight he should be showing Zayn support, not isolating him.

Then again, his mind reasons that being young and dumb is pretty much their forte and it’s easy to let your take on things get clouded by your own selfish wants.

Harry sits on the edge of Zayn’s single bed and then offers up as light heartedly as he can

“Buy some hash and surprise him with it.”

Zayn sniffs, and it’s painful to watch, because Harry just wants everyone to be satisfied, wants his friends to be _happy_.

 

**

 

Harry slips into Tesco’s on his way home to pick up some red milk for his mum, feels like he needs to be doing more for her, even if it is this.

It’s pretty late already he notes, but this is one of those twenty-four seven kinds of places not far from where he lives and he’s not in any rush to get in, in fact, he thinks he’ll linger just for the sake of it.

He’s walking lazily up each aisle, inspecting items that he knows he’s not going to buy but sort of enjoys acknowledging anyhow, feels like they deserve to be seen, after all that’s what they’ve been put up on these shelves for.

He’s looking at a footy mag, thinks of getting if for Louis, the pint of milk cold in his hand when he realises there’s someone staring directly at him, it’s not uncommon these days.

He turns his head, ready to give the observer a glare that will make things clear, eyes squinting because the store lights are far too bright but then he realises it’s definitely Niall Horan dressed in extremely skinny blue jeans.

Has he been wearing those all day? _Has he?_ Harry would’ve have noticed, surely. He spends enough time staring at Niall’s arse either way; he tries to not feel guilty about it.

The blonde has obviously noticed him, he’s kind of hard to miss and Harry enjoys watching his expression as he internally debates as to whether or not he should look away. Harry wants him to look, wants Niall to see him and realise he’s a fucking mess that needs putting down.

Niall’s gaze leaves him, and the brunette has to bite his lip to keep from smirking, because Niall has not acknowledged him at all, in fact, he’s almost completely ignored him and now Harry can’t help but only have one thought.

_I want, I want, I want._

And then he’s standing right behind the other boy, a breaths width away and it’s pretty darn hard to contain the urge to bite at Niall and make him pay Harry some attention, he’d like that, like that a lot, thinks maybe Niall would scream.

Niall can feel him there, it’s impossible not to, but Harry’s not one to force things, not intentionally, so he’s silent, doesn’t speak, but his presence is known.

He’s never seen someone tremble before, and Niall is definitely trembling.

 

**

 

His Psychology teacher bores him down when he walks into the classroom over ten minutes late.

“And what time do you call this Mr Styles?”

Harry grins sheepishly, it’s so forced he thinks his teeth might fall out but he’s hoping his charm will work wonders on this incredibly frail woman.

It doesn’t, her sharp eyes are glaring at him from behind her rectangular specs.

“Here is today’s work, I want it completed and back to me by the end of this hour.”

He fists the papers she hands him, thankful that he hasn’t received her lecture again, knows that she’ll pull him aside when he gets back and ask him if everything’s okay.

Harry scans the sheets as he stalks the corridors in the direction of the common room, finding it full as he pushes the door open.

He’s sighing heavily because there’s no chance of him getting anything done with this intolerable noise going on and then he’s mulling over his other options and thinking that the library will have to do.

You’d think he’d be a fan of it, only it’s a shabby little room with shitty books and desks fit for ten year olds, with a librarian who seems to be older than the school itself. It’s a shame he thinks, because books are something that should be treasured, not tossed around and left behind as a last resort.

He’s focusing on cramming his legs beneath the small wooden table when he hears the approaching of footsteps and, ode to joy; it’s a girl from his Psychology class whose name he still hasn’t learnt. He’s never been good at names, if they’re important enough then he’ll care.

She’s interesting to look at, to say the least, with bright red hair and a dragon tattoo spanning the length of her back, shown off thanks to her endless collection of crop tops. She’s brass too, smiling at Harry and sitting across from him, even though he hardly knows her and for some reason his gut tells him to detest her.

“Turns out this work needs to be done in pairs, I volunteered.”

He’s eyeing her, and not in a good way, because he doesn’t need anyone to help him with this, especially not someone who makes his eyes sting.

There’s a silence that lingers and Harry’s already on his way to ignoring her, reading through a study that he’ll possibly be tested on, trying not to let the insults roll off of his tongue.

“Oi, did you hear me? We need to work together.”

Harry inhales briskly, and that does it.

“I don’t _need_ to do anything.”       

She looks insulted by his response, as if she’d been expecting him to be flattered that she’d sacrificed her own lesson time for him.

“Calm down, I’m not really arsed about the work either but it’s gotta be done.”

Harry wants to laugh because what sort of thing is that to say? Why learn if not interested?

“I work better _alone_ ,” He reiterates, slowly, he thinks of Louis flipping off the ginger kid yesterday and how they really are two peas in a pod when it comes to being bastards.

“What’s your problem?”

He’s got a lot of them alright, but right now his number one priority is the fact that Niall is walking into sight and sitting at a table two down from him.

Harry doesn’t think his timing could be any better, and then he’s scooping up his stuff and leaving his fellow classmate behind in exchange for a much more appealing one.

Niall makes Harry’s pulse hammer and his stomach churn.

That’s definitely discomfort in Niall’s blue eyes he spots when they look up to see who’s breaching the blonde’s personal space.

Harry thinks about how this situation isn’t all that much different from the one he was in a few seconds ago.

Perhaps Niall doesn’t want to be bothered, Harry finds that he doesn’t care.

A departing flash of red indicates that he’ll no longer be harassed, and Harry knows he’s been discourteous but it’s something he cannot control.

Niall’s clutching his bag in his hands, still with anticipation, because what exactly is Harry’s plan now?

“You ignored me yesterday.”

He states it before he can decide if it’s what he really wants to say. He thinks back to it, the way Niall chose to say silent.

He’s more similar to Harry than he thinks, and then Harry feels ill because how could he ever compare someone like Niall to himself? It’s shameful.

“I-” Niall mutters but Harry interrupts him, and he’s not sure what he’s trying to do.

“You looked right at me, it was very _disrespectful_.”

There’s a smirk forming on his face because he sounds just like his teacher, only his ideal punishments for Niall are a little more _intense_ and disgusting because why does it have to be Niall he lusts after, why can’t it be someone just as awful as him?

“What was I supposed to say?” Niall asks and Harry likes how quiet he is, thinks he could change that, knows he shouldn’t want to.

_‘Don’t go in all guns blazing_ ’ Liam’s voice unhelpfully reminds him.

“Come on Niall, be creative,” He teases but the other boy doesn’t seem to be relaxing and he’s more tightly strung than Harry had initially thought, like an open wound refusing to heal.

“I’m s-sorry,” And it’s meek, not what Harry had at all wanted and not at all what he deserves.

Niall is _afraid_ of him.

“I don’t bite,” He explains agitatedly, because is he really _that_ guy?

The Irish boy finally releases his bag, placing it gingerly on the chair to his left and Harry takes it as a small positive, leaning back a little to get a better look at Niall.

This is much more intriguing, revelling in the little spots that pepper Niall’s jaw, somehow drowned out by the freckles that fall into place.

The lack of conversation is bothering him though, because without words they’re not going to get anywhere and Harry wants to get _everywhere_.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” He can sense that it’s somewhat of a defensive comment, that Niall would rather Harry didn’t insist on trying to befriend him.

The brunette doesn’t answer him, just keeps a level gaze, likes tracing the lines of his face.

“Harry, I-I… what do you want?”

“You’re a smart boy Niall, figure it out,” He challenges, smirk causing his mouth to twist upwards and he’s almost certain it’s cruel.

His pale cheeks are flushing pink then and oh if this isn’t a pleasant sight.

The blonde swallows, distressed, because it’s pretty blatant what with the way Harry’s eyeing him up like a piece of succulent beef. He’s despicable.

And then Harry snorts so loudly to cover up that aching he feels at the thought that the librarian is hushing him with a sneer.

Niall has every right to be confused.

“This was fun,” He smiles smugly as he readies to leave because he needs to get away from his own mind.

 

**

 

Louis seems far too blissed when Harry sees him later on that day, it’s actually discomforting because the last time he saw Louis like this was nearly over a month ago when summer was in full swing and he and Zayn had matching tattoos done.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks as Lou forces his tuna sandwich into his mouth unattractively.

“More like, who has _he_ gotten into,” Liam explains with a knowing look , it’s crudely put and thus Harry immediately understands that Louis has obviously managed to fuck someone easy on the eyes.

“Who is she?”

Tommo awkwardly answers whilst chewing his food and Harry rolls his eyes because, shit, that is nasty. It’s why they’re so suited at being friends.

Harry does not know what’s just been said.

“You know her,” Liam hints, earning himself a glare and his mind goes into overdrive trying to figure out who this girl could be.

“It better not be my sister,” Harry warns, only half kidding, because he’ll never forget Louis getting fucking drunk and trying to kiss her one New Year’s, so embarrassed the next day that his resolution had been to never show his face around Harry’s again.

Louis laughs then, finally finished with his food.

“Of course not you twat.”              

He’s relieved, because it’s not that Louis isn’t good enough for Gemma, he’s just seen how Louis is with girls, only after one thing and often a bit of a git. He waits then for the answer, knowing full well that Louis won’t be able to keep it quiet for too long.

“Eleanor.”

Harry lets that sink in, caught up momentarily in the queue of traffic not far from where they’re sat, thinks about driving away from reality, this moment.

“You’re lying.”

“He’s not,” Liam assures and that confirms it’s true, Louis looks so insanely smug and Harry’s actually entertained by all this. This is actually _brilliant._

“Isn’t she in Uni?”

Eleanor is lovely, prettier than any girl Louis has ever set eyes on and Harry can’t help but wonder how on earth he’s managed to pull that off without putting his foot into his mouth.

“First year,” His friend replies a little too fast so that his cheeks are flushing, and shit, Harry realises that this actually means something to Louis.

Neither he nor Liam asks if the sex was any good.

 

**

 

He’s got so much revision that needs to be done that his head is pounding and his room smells with all the roll-ups he’s been smoking.

The real problem is the fact that he can’t bloody think about anything apart from Niall Horan. And Harry decides that it’s futile, that he doesn’t need school at this moment and, yes, he’ll regret it tomorrow, but he’s a procrastinator at heart.

Louis answers his phone with a yawn

“You fucked off with studying as well then?”

Harry breaks out into a grin because they’re partners in crime when they want to be, both as useless as each other that their friendship is actually probably a bad idea.

“You want to get smashed?”

“Please,” Louis breathes, and then there’s shuffling in the background and Harry loves the fact that he gives in so easily.

“Skate park in 20 minutes?”

There’s silence and Harry can tell Louis is being an imbecile and nodding as opposed to verbally answering.

 

**

 

The two of them sit at the top of a ramp and Louis pulls out Russian Standard vodka.

“Did you text Payno?” Harry asks as he watches his friend unscrew the cap, it’s cold and his hands look almost as red as the seal.

“Of course I did, he’s too busy getting sucked off to care.”

Harry snorts because that sounds more like Louis describing himself than anything else. He pries the bottle from him and chugs it, a stupid thing to do really but ah well, the taste is just as foul as every other time he’s done it.

It’s like that for a little while longer, the two of them drinking whilst Louis comes out with a ridiculous comment every once in a while. It’s actually pretty peaceful and Harry feels a little bit bad for wishing that it was Niall he was here with, he’d just really like to see the blonde drunk and in this environment.

“Fucks sakes, what did you invite him for?”

He looks up slowly, his mind foggy and in the dim lighting he can see someone clad in black walking towards them.

There’s no mistaking that bloody ‘Zap’ tattoo and Harry’s not all to surprised that Zayn is here, he’s practically attached to his board, actually got Louis into it.

“I didn’t,” He answers honestly, not really bothered if Lou believes him or not because it’s about time they got this mess sorted out, whatever it was.

“You alright?” Zayn asks them once he’s stood at their feet, discomfort evident.

Louis isn’t looking up at him and Zayn looks like he’s about to call it quits, like he’s really ready to give up years of friendship because he’s fucked if he knows what to do to make this right.

“Oh fuck it, sit down you ponce, I’ve missed you,” Louis _finally_ smirks and Harry can practically see the relief radiating off of Zayn, like Louis is his comforter and he can’t bear to be without him.

By the end of the night he realises there was never _really_ any problem to begin with.

 

**

 

Getting really drunk on a Tuesday night is never a good idea, but hey, Harry thinks you need to live a little every once in a while.

Zayn leaves an hour before the two of them, and Louis, lucky bastard has it closer to his house. He hugs Harry tightly and tells him that he’s actually amazing and Harry takes it because it’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to him in a while.

Harry’s done this walk many times before, it’s just always easier when he’s not intoxicated and incoherent and just fucking sad.

He takes a seat on a park bench, leaning forward to take in some deep breaths in hopes that they’ll clear his head a little, like that’ll ever happen.

Anne is going to slaughter him when he gets in, literally crucify him, and maybe he deserves it.

He wants to have another smoke but he can’t seem to find his lighter anywhere and he’s allowing defeat before he’s even really started searching, feels a bit like his life.

“Harry?”

His head snaps up and great, just great, Niall is right in front of him, and Harry does not know why nor does he want him there.

“Are- are ya alright?”

God Niall is so Irish, Harry wants to laugh, maybe cry.

“Fine,” He grins, all his teeth on display, as he looks up through his lashes at the smaller boy. He thinks Niall might be leaning in closer, he doesn’t know.

“You’re drunk,” The blonde mumbles and Harry thinks he might be relieved by this, because Harry’s unpredictably lessens when he’s had a good drink or two.

“What are you doing here?” Is what he really wants to know.

“I eh, live just around the corner.”

Harry would have noticed that, he would have known that Niall Horan lived only a couple of hundred metres from him.

“It’s late, why aren’t you at home?”

He doesn’t like the idea of Niall being out at this time, doesn’t like what he could potentially be doing until this hour.

There’s no answer and that makes him frustrated, why won’t Niall just talk to him? Why can’t he just do that?

“Do you want me to call someone? Maybe yer ma?”

Harry’s up then, like a bolt, swaying slightly on his feet.

“I’m not an invalid.”

Niall retreats, his blue eyes too light in this dark.

“I didn’t mean it like that, just thought…”

He’s pissed off, and it’s because this is the most Niall’s ever said to him, most he’s ever looked at him and Harry would damn well like to remember it.

“I should go, you’ll be okay, right?”

He doesn’t know if he’s actually concerned or just a Good Samaritan who doesn’t want Harry’s wellbeing on his conscience.

Green eyes are looking harshly into blue.

“I can’t go home,” he mumbles, and fuck he sounds vulnerable, no time for that.

“ _You_ could take me home,” Harry smiles, and yes, he’s not drunk enough for his appeal to fail him, not drunk enough for his brain to go into meltdown.

Niall’s definitely blushing, definitely stuttering something.

“I-I can’t.”

He hadn’t been expecting anything less and the sigh he lets out is a lingering one.

“Run along then,” Harry quips, wants Niall out of his sight before he does something he’ll regret.

The blonde is turning away from him, and Harry thinks he’ll just have to do with looking at Niall’s arse for the millionth time.

He sinks back down onto to the bench; he’ll be sober enough soon.

 

**

 

Harry doesn’t bother Niall for a while after that, he feels a little bit bitter about it all. It’s not his intention for it to work out that way, but it does.

It’s two weeks full of listening to Louis go on about the perkiness of Eleanor’s tits and Harry thinks it’s all rather funny really, but it’s not as fun as unwinding Niall.

He tries to pull his weight, get some work done and help his mum around the house, simple stuff like that but it’s just too much of a tedious existence for him. He feels caged by books and rules and he just can’t stand it, he wants to learn, he really does, but just not like this.

He’s always been one to feel, either too much or nothing at all and it confuses him because Harry doesn’t know what he’s doing this for, going through a midlife crisis at the age of eighteen.

But today, today he’s particularly moody, his face in a brood even as he takes his seat in his cold English class. He decides that he’s not through with ignoring Niall; feels like sitting with a pout will be therapeutic for the next two hours.

Only the teacher has a meeting to attend to and thus tells them all to work independently for an hour before her return.

Harry’s fucked off, thinks he could be doing something useful with that amount of time, like having a wank or smoking some weed.

He gets to it though, highlighting important sections of the passage he’s reading before he’s being addressed

“Have I upset you?”

Harry’s tempted to pretend as if he’s not heard Niall’s quiet voice, but his resolve cracks because he _needs_ entertaining.

“What makes you think that, Blondie?”

He’s not upset at all, rather just irked because he’s pretty darn desperate for the Irish lad and hard to get has never been Harry’s forte. People have never been Harry’s forte.

“It’s just, you’ve -you’ve been ignoring me,” Niall murmurs secretively, almost as if he’s afraid to admit it aloud, fearful that it’ll rile Harry.

Niall’s sat closer to him today, an odd surge of integrity obviously wracking him and Harry should have realised that sometimes playing the waiting game is exactly the right thing to do.

“I do that with everybody,” He retorts, brief, because his true reason is a pretty idiotic one.

“I – er, oh.”

Harry looks at him then, wry smile working its way onto his face as he measures the distance between their faces. Niall’s too pretty.

“Do you _want_ me to pay attention to you?”

Niall falters, sitting upright and coughing uncomfortably into his hand.

“That _is_ what you’re saying right?”

His cheeks are a deep shade of red and Harry can’t help but imagine that blush in an entirely different situation, he’s getting desperate for it.

“God, why do ya have to be so difficult?” Niall snaps, a burst of something that Harry hasn’t seen before and it’s intriguing.

He mulls over his response, he wants to ask Niall what he means by that, if he means anything at all.

“So you’d like it if I were easy Niall?”

The blonde next to him closes off, turns back to his work but Harry can see the burning of his cheeks and now that they’ve started up again he just can’t let it go.

“I’ll be really easy for you.”

And yeah he’s coming on way too strong but he’s jaded and frankly he doesn’t like waiting for things that he’d really like, that he really wants.

Niall’s still red, a flush so pretty that Harry has to lick his lips to contain his excitement.

“Stop talking,” Niall pleads, his shoulders so hunched that Harry thinks he might just snap in half.

“You’re right… I can think of so many other things to do with my mouth.”

Niall turns to him then, eyes wide and Harry watches as he swallows down a gulp, no doubt something Harry will remember later on tonight.

He waits for the verbal response, prays that there will be one.

There isn’t.

 

**

 

He keeps pushing, won’t let his assault on Niall fade and then finally something miraculous happens

“I’m not going to have sex with ya Harry.”

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard a rejection sound so appealing.

 

**

 

Gemma zones in on him when he’s sprawled on the couch texting Louis, the screen is set to the dullest setting, the light an easy trigger for his migraines.

“Your knickers are in a twist,” She concludes as she turns on Project Runway.

Harry ignores her, mainly because he’s not actually wearing any underwear at the moment. His sister doesn’t give though, elbow digging into his shin so that he has to look at her.

It’s only now that he realises she’s got some green mudpack painted across her face.

“Fuck off Shrek.”

It’s definitely eye roll worthy and he’s wiggling his feet towards her nose so that she’ll back off. Gemma pushes them down, holding them in place, nails threating to scratch his thinly stretched skin.

“Who is he then?”

And Harry stiffens then because he’s never had to tell Gem that he’s not really fucked about gender.

“Huh?” He figures he’ll just have to play dumb, he’s good at that.

It doesn’t work.

“You’re obviously mooning over someone.”

Harry snorts because he doesn’t moon, ever. He just wants to claim Niall is all.

“Your aura is a clear red Haz, there’s no hiding it, you’re hot for someone.”

He huffs because “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

Sure it had been fun when he was five and Gemma would talk about the sparks of colour igniting around him. He’d believed it more back then. Swore he could see the yellow hue humming around his sister as they sat in the garden, watching her as she weaved daises into her hair.

“Is he not giving you the attention you deserve?”

Harry lies still, because he doesn’t deserve anything, he just wants it all.

Gemma wraps a palm around his ankle “I think it’s cute.”

Harry knows he could just reel off; he could tell her everything because she’s got that air to her, one that just makes him feel safe.

He doesn’t.

“I don’t need anyone.”

 

**

 

Liam is the one who finally comes out with it. Finally says something that cracks the ice coating Harry’s prickly skin.

“He’s flirting with you Harry.”

He doesn’t want Liam getting his hopes up like this, he’s grounded and he knows what’s what so this isn’t cool.

“Like hell he is.”

Liam sighs, like he’s had to deal with a lot of shit and is ready to deal with some more.

“He probably doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, but he is.”

Harry takes a long pull of his roll up, and then taps the ash off the end as they walk side by side towards  the corner shop. What does this mean?

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Liam elbows him and it hurts a little “It’s not supposed to.”

He shakes his head, pulling the elastic band from his wrist and tugging his hair into a half bun.

“So I should just corner him in the lads’ bathroom then?”

His friend laughs and Harry’s starting to think it might be the best idea he’s had all week.

 

**

 

“You should do something with me,” Harry tries on the Thursday afternoon as he counts down the last ten minutes of the lesson.

Niall looks at him, his face stoic and then bites at his lip. Harry can tell he’s contemplating, thinking too thoroughly as to what he means by it.

“Do what?”

“Nothing you don’t want to do,” He smiles, and it’s not as fake as it could be, he doesn’t want to layer it on for Niall, that doesn’t feel right.

“Are… are you going to try it on with me?”

The smiles falls and he’s serious when he says “Not if you don’t want me too.”

 

**

 

It’s almost too perfect, the way in which he coaxes Niall into wrapping his lips around the end of his roll up and inhaling.

He should feel bad, he wants to feel bad, but it’s a dirty thing, the way his mind works, and he smiles because Niall doesn’t even cough, like he’s done it so many times before.

He’s desperate to get his mouth back on it, wants to know that the residue of Niall’s saliva is going to touch his own. He almost groans with the thought.

It’s raining slightly, but Harry’s still managed to get him out onto the backfields, protected mostly from sight by the trunk of a large tree.

“You should do that more often,” He hums because he could get off on just watching Niall work his way through a whole cigarette.

Niall blushes and Harry hates it but loves it at the same time, hates that he’s still pushing for Niall even when he shouldn’t be and loves that Niall’s letting him.

“Why are you like this?” The small blonde asks and Harry shrugs.

He doesn’t know.

 

**

 

When he gets home there’s complete and utter silence, and it fucking unnerves him because Harry’s always desperate for quiet, it’s just rare that he gets it.

He thinks that maybe it’s nice to be able to hear his own breath clearly for once, monitor its patterns and just enjoy the lull of it.

It’s a funny thing breathing, so calming and then at other times a person’s worst enemy; can play nasty tricks on you and effectively it owns you because you’re thoroughly fucked if your lungs fail you.

It kind of makes him wish he didn’t smoke so much. Makes him wish he hadn’t made Niall try it but then for some reason the thought of the blonde gasping for breath makes Harry’s skin flush and he’s not sure if it’s sane at all.

He’s not sure if he’s sane at all.

 

**

 

Zayn arrives with cans of larger in tow and Harry feels grateful for the company, realises that sitting alone with his thoughts is actually kind of disturbing when it wants to be.

“You good?” Zayn asks him once he’s flicking through the channels on Harry’s television and watches him drink for a minute.

Harry nods minutely and then flashes his teeth, lets Zayn know that he’s beyond good, that  he’s fucking exhilarated but just don’t ask him why.

“Louis mentioned to me that you’re into someone.”

And Harry thinks he could deny it, could glare at Zayn and make it very clear that there is absolutely no one he wants to get into but it’s _Zayn_.

“I’m totally fucked,” He sighs and because it’s true he doesn’t even have the heart to feel ashamed by the admission. All Niall’s done is given him a few glances and sucked on one of his roll ups and he’s fucking spinning with it, wants to cliff dive into overwhelming nothingness.

“That bad eh?”

And Zayn doesn’t look anything but genuine and Harry kind of wishes it were Zayn he wanted because that would be so easy, it would just work and he’s pissed because of course it doesn’t work that way.

“I want to eat him Zayn, I want to cut him up and eat him.”

Zayn doesn’t even flinch, is so used to the shit that comes out of Harry’s mouth and it’s all rather ridiculous if you think about it, because you can’t just say something like that , you shouldn’t want to but Harry does it anyway.

“I want to suck his ankles and cum on his face.”

And that does it, makes Zayn burst into spluttering laughter and Harry’s glad that at least one of them can see the humour in it.

 

**

 

Harry hates parties, hates large crowds and the claustrophobia of so many people being forced into one place.

It’s the free booze that does it for him, he’ll suffer being _here_ if it means he can get some alcohol in his bloodstream, can feel life begin to blur.

 He’s giddy with it, thrilled at the prospect of being able to waste away someone else’s money for a change.

He’s got no other business here, is watching Liam flirt with a tall brunette, and she seems to be loving every second of it, hand on his arm and her cheeks look hot.

Louis is sat to his left, smoking a joint with no real conviction to his actions either; in fact he finds himself asking what on earth they’re really doing here?

“We should leave,” He mumbles as he finishes his rum.

“Can’t mate, Liam was adamant that I get you to stay put.”

He turns to look at Louis then, because no one tells him what to do but Louis’s shit eating grin interests him and he’s fairly certain it’s not only there because of the weed.

“What’s going on?”

Louis caves so easily “You see that girl Liam’s with, it’s her party.”

Harry doesn’t get, he’s unimpressed.

“She’s in Niall’s history class and she’s invited him Harold.”

He casts a glance back at Liam and fuck he can see it now, Liam’s not interested at all, he’s bloody wingmaning him without him even knowing it, obviously trying to coax information out of this girl for Harry.

He feels a little sick at how sneaky Liam can be, thinks he doesn’t really like it because it’s Harry’s signature trait.

“Niall won’t show up to something as shit as this,” He replies, pessimism not weaning.

“Wrong,” Louis muses because Niall _is_ here and he’s standing where the hostess was two minutes ago.

He’s up then, doesn’t like the idea of Liam having Niall to himself because what if he lets slip just how infatuated with him Harry really is.

_As if Niall doesn’t already know._

“Harry?” the blonde questions as he stops beside him and he can’t help but smile predatorily because Niall’s vulnerable in this environment.

“I’m going to babysit Lou,” Liam pinches his side as he departs and Harry knows he owes him and fuck he hates owing people.

“You here alone?” Harry can’t help but ask, because maybe Niall’s with someone, in which case he’ll be spending the rest of this night disposing of a brutally battered body.

“My brother dropped me off,” He mumbles and he’s not looking up at him but more rather behind him.

“Didn’t realise this was your kind of thing,” The taller boy sighs, almost disappointed that Niall _likes_ this.

Niall doesn’t respond and Harry thinks that maybe he’s touched a nerve, or that maybe Niall’s just like him wherein he doesn’t want to be here.

“I could use a drink,” He finally speaks and Harry can feel that buzz of excitement returning because he wants to get Niall drunk enough to tell him all his darkest secrets.

 

**

 

They wind up in the attic, which in actual fact had been locked but Harry’s breaks it, the volume of the music covering the sound.

He finds it intriguing that Niall doesn’t scold him for it, is starting to realise that he’s not judgemental in that way.

It scares him that if it came to it Niall would let him destroy himself.

Niall scares him.

“You gonna sit down with me or not?”

Harry doesn’t need to be asked twice, sits cross-legged next to small blonde so that he can peer out the circular window.

He passes Niall his beer and continues on with his third rum.

“It’s fucked isn’t it?” Irish accent tickles his skin and Harry wants to shove him to the ground and bite him.

“What is?”

“Adolescence.”

He laughs at the response, laughs so hard because Niall is right, it’s fucked.

Niall stares at him for a long while after, like he’s seeing him for the first time, sipping his drink with a small smile.

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so perfect, lithe and fluffy, and he just wants to lick him from head to toe. He thinks he could die tonight and it’d be fine because he’s seen Niall up close and felt the heat of his gaze.

“You know I don’t want to be your friend right?” And he has to say it, more for himself if anything.

Niall snorts and it’s tiny but it’s there.

“I know.”

He should stop there, he really should but his mouth runs its course.

“You know I want to fuck you right?”

Niall’s breath doesn’t even catch

“I know.”

There’s a greater significance now to the situation than he had initially thought, like, this is really important, but his mouth obviously has no concept as to what manners are.

“Telling me doesn’t change anything,” Niall says, and it’s somewhat wistfully, because why does Harry have to make this so gritty.

But it’s Niall who doesn’t get it, because fucking means so much more than that to him.

Perhaps to Niall though it feels much more like a blunt force attack that anything else, because obviously Harry isn’t going to mention anything along the lines of emotional yearning, he doesn’t really understand what it all signifies yet.

The rum isn’t helping with his control.

“I just want to push you up against this window and devour you Niall; won’t you let me do that?”

There’s wetness on his calf then and he looks down to see that Niall’s knocked over his beer bottle, that doesn’t stop him though, he can deal with being a little sticky.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise,” He’s closing in on him and Niall doesn’t seem be moving, and Harry just can’t take it.

_Come on_ he wants to grind out.

“Touch me and I’ll scream,” Niall finally says and Harry can practically feel his eyes brightening, because he wants to hear Niall scream so much, wants to feel it vibrate through him.

“You-you said you weren’t going to try it on with me,” he mumbles and Harry’s chest tightens.

“That was then, this is…now.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” Niall breathes and then Harry’s got his palm wrapped around his neck, thumb pressed against his elevated pulse. He’s got mad control over him now, can do as he pleases because Niall couldn’t over power him even if he gave it his full force.

“Call me a liar one more time; go on, I dare you.”

He can feel the shudder radiate through Niall and then there’s a pale hand slipping under his shirt and pinching at his skin, hard, and he can’t help but grin.

_“Liar,”_ Niall hums quietly and it’s a permission, it has to be.

His lips are dry now but he’s sure that Niall can help him with that, can help him slicken them up.

Niall smells like honey, looks like honey and Harry is on him, mouth pressed to his and hand tighter around expanses of skin.

He thinks that he might die right now, might die with the taste of Niall on him, over him.

It’s wet, hot, open mouthed and Niall is making a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like a whine, a pained one at that.

But Harry isn’t easing up and the feel of soft hands scratching at his stomach makes it coil wildly, makes him kiss harder.

He bites at him then, bites at the lips attached to his and Niall makes that same noise again, the one that drives Harry crazy, makes him want to come all over Niall’s face.

He’s gotten what he wanted, Niall’s back pressed harshly into the corner of the window pane, he’s still yet to devour though.

Harry doesn’t think the blonde will ever speak to him again after this, thinks he should make it worthwhile for as long as it lasts.

It’s Niall who does it first though, pushes his tongue against Harry’s and it’s so unexpected that his gut jumps and he’s letting Niall’s throat free, hands pulling at his hair instead, angling his face upwards so that he can take full advantage.

He can feel Niall’s fingers slotting themselves along his ribs and this is more than he ever thought he’d get.

Niall isn’t shy when he’s like this, doesn’t back down and fuck Harry can’t take it, can feel himself shaking.

He pulls back a little, wants to say something, he doesn’t know what, but something, only Niall doesn’t let him, is holding onto him tighter, almost desperately.

He can feel blunt fingernails scratching at the skin of his back, Niall’s hands seeming larger suddenly and so damn hot against him.

And Harry can’t help it, he’s incoherent and it’s all because of Niall.

And then it’s over, Niall’s back for air and licking his lips so that they shine obscenely.

All Harry can think about is getting off, wants to get a hand on himself and wank to sight of Niall like this.

It doesn’t happen.

He doesn’t think it’ll ever happen.

 

**

 

His memory burns like it’s being inked to his skin with the thought of kissing Niall, like it’s a taste of paradise he doesn’t ever want to part with.

Niall’s playing him; he has to be, acting so shy when really he’s not, when really he’s just as fucking hot for it as Harry is.

“The little fuck.”

“What was that mate?” Liam asks him, and Harry bites him lip because now Niall has him talking to himself.

Harry stretches his back a little before he bothers replying.

“I’m just thinking,” He says, mutters more like and stares ahead at the white wall in front of them. They’re waiting for Louis to get here and then they’re planning on skipping fifth period.

Yeah Harry has English but Niall’s back to ignoring him anyhow, and he doesn’t think he can deal with an hour of pining and want.

He’s getting shoved then, snapping back into the moment and he can see Louis looking down at him, waiting expectantly and fuck he needs to get his head sorted out.

It doesn’t help that Louis is actually wearing an expression of concern that Harry just ignores because yeah he gets it he’s acting stranger than usual.

Lou doesn’t need to say anything to let Harry know that this won’t be the last of it.

 

**

 

Harry’s not into it at first, doesn’t think that this is right but then he’s remembering Niall and he gives in because mentally he’s weak.

“I’m not doing it,” Liam tells them both, looking irked from where he’s sat on Louis’s couch.

Harry eye’s the bagged white powder again with interest, and he knows, this will help with how down he’s been feeling, even if it’s only temporary.

“Suit yourself,” Louis snaps, setting himself up a line and Harry knows why _he’s_ doing this but why is Louis?

“Lou don’t,” Liam warns, but it’s useless because no one tells any of them what to do, and Louis makes that point clear as he snorts up the cocaine, eyes trained on Liam’s face.

Harry watches as the rush hits him, as he leans back a little and rubs at his nose before breaking out into a grin.

“Your turn.”

And he does it, not because Louis is making him but because he needs it right now, because he’s so fucked off about Niall.

He wants to say it feels like euphoria only he’s never had a taste of that, but he’s pretty sure this must be one of the closest feelings.

He can feel his pulse hammering in his neck, feels like he’s never been more alive.

And maybe he hasn’t.

 

**

 

Harry thinks he might snap. Might just snap right in half and then over again.

He just can’t take it, the lust, the anger and the denial.

Why won’t Niall even talk to him, they’d kissed, so what? That didn’t need to mean anything if it meant that Niall would at least be able to look at him again.

A voice inside his head sneers that maybe _Niall just doesn’t want to know_ but Harry can’t accept that; won’t.

“Don’t ignore me, just don’t.” He breathes to himself as he walks, overlooks the glances that he gets from other students, students that want to know him and touch him.

And Harry just wants to touch Niall, Niall who’s already sat at the table they share by the heater, the one that burns Harry’s back on occasion if he presses too close.

He’s got his pen in his mouth; the same mouth that Harry’s tasted and fuck this is all obviously just a game to the blonde.

He drops his bag and makes the chair squeak under his weight.

Niall spares him a sideward glance, cheeks hollowed around his pen and that’s it, that’s all he fucking gets.

And _then_ he loses it, grabs the pen from between Niall’s teeth and slams it on the table so hard that the whole damn class is staring right at them.

“Is everything alright Mr Styles?” His teacher asks him and he realises then where he is.

He doesn’t speak and then

“If there’s something you and Mr Horan need to discuss, then perhaps it be best the two of you take it outside.”

“That won’t be-” Niall begins but is cut short when Harry pulls him up by the bicep.

“Ten minutes boys.” She tells them and Harry doesn’t think he’s ever liked her more than he does at this moment.

He’s unaware as to whether or not Niall is protesting and quite frankly he doesn’t care, just wants to get them someplace secluded.

He shoves the blonde down into a narrow hallway and then paces, back and forth, back and forth.

“Harry,” Niall murmurs quietly, he stops, looks at Niall and then stands right in front of him.

Niall looks beautiful, looks like sin.

“I don’t like being ignored Niall, I don’t like it.”

Niall seems to be cowering, trying to melt into the wall behind him and Harry doesn’t like that either.

“It was one kiss Niall, one kiss, you can’t hate me for it,” He whispers, breath fanning through Niall’s hair and it’s fucking hot to watch.

“I-I don’t hate you Harry, I’m just, I just needed a bit of space.”

Harry doesn’t think he can call this relief that’s washing over him, if anything it’s a hunger.

And then he’s got his palm on Niall’s soft cheek and he’s calm, completely mellow like Niall is some sort of tranquiliser that he’s hooked on.

“We can share space,” Harry tells him, thumb probing the corner of Niall’s mouth and it’s agony.

And Niall presses his lips into that thumb which makes Harry inhale all of his breath.

“Don’t,” He whispers “Not if it means that you’re going to avoid me again.”

Niall sighs and it’s heavy, so heavy that Harry can feel the weight of it sinking into him.

Arms wrap around him, a hand at the base of his neck pulling at the hair there and he didn’t see this coming, was expecting Niall to push and claw at him.

“You’re not good for me Harry.”

And Harry knows it’s true but he also knows that the same could be said for Niall, Niall who’s making him crazy.

Now that he’s here, pliant against him Harry can’t help but let his hands wander, stroke down the length of Niall’s spine and squeeze at his flank.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Niall reassures him with a hot breath but Harry doesn't trust it, can tell that it’s not the complete and utter truth.

He wants another kiss, wants Niall to be covered in his scent.

“Need to,” Harry whines, nose pressing into the skin below Niall’s ear and trailing along his cheek bone.

Niall lets it happen, lets Harry kiss him slowly, slower than he wants it but he has to show Niall that he cares, that this what they both need.

“Harry, I can’t” Niall mumbles as he pulls away but it’s so quiet that Harry chooses to ignore it, chooses to be selfish and push Niall back against the concrete wall.

Niall’s lips are searing hot as they open up to him and Harry loves it, knows that this is a better feeling than any drug could give him.

His heart is thumping heavily against his chest and fuck if Niall isn't just letting Harry do what he wants, and it’s so good but Harry needs to know what Niall likes.

It’s a risk, separating their mouths, but there’s so much skin exposed for Harry to explore, and then he bites at the hollow of Niall’s throat and the blonde whines.

Whines and feebly shoves at him but Harry still doesn't let up because Niall makes him psychotic, makes him insane.

“Harry,” He breathes and then Harry can feel the harsh pinch of fingers at his forearm and yes it turns him on but he knows when no means no.

Niall’s eyes are very blue and just looking at them gives Harry a ridiculous rush.

He thinks that maybe he should apologise but it wouldn't be honest and Niall knows that.

Somehow Niall knows nothing and too much all at once.

 

**

 

“You ever thought that maybe you need therapy?” Niall asks him quietly a few days later as they eat their lunch on a patch of grass.

He’d specifically told Niall that he’d wanted to spend some time alone with him and was grateful that the blonde boy had granted him with this.

In all honesty Harry doesn’t really know what to think of what they’re doing, Niall hasn’t kissed him again and he’s feeling amiss about that. He wants it, and Niall knows that.

Harry looks away from the shine of the sun and shrugs

“I like being fucked up.”

And Niall can’t argue with that.

“I didn’t mean it,” Niall murmurs a few seconds later, because to anyone else it would sound like a pretty harsh blow but Harry’s not like anyone else Niall has ever met.

Harry smiles lazily “You did, but that’s okay.”

Harry thinks Niall could beat him black and blue and he’d still want him the way he does.

Thinks that maybe Niall is right to think of him as unhealthy.

The sky is greying over now and it just seems ironic, because maybe that’s the effect Harry has on things.

“Here, have this,” He offers, handing the dark red apple he’s been holding for a while now to Niall.

The smaller boy looks at it and Harry wants to snort, it’s not like he’s giving Niall his heart.

“Go on, it’ll go to waste otherwise.”

The truth is that he wants Niall to take something from him for once, take something and not have to give anything in return even if it is a poxy apple.

He wants to know that Niall is sated because one of them has to be.

He watches the blonde take the first bite and it’s a feeling of satisfaction Harry hasn’t experienced in a while.

“Your mouth is fucking hot.”

He says it more to elicit a reaction that anything.

Niall only falters slightly mid chew and Harry can feel the heat within him sparking.

Niall should tell him off, put him down like he’s done so many times before but the fact that he doesn’t means something.

Harry just can’t figure it out anymore.

And fuck it

“I think about you a lot,” He starts slowly “What you feel like-”

“Harry,” Niall warns but Harry can’t stop he’s fucking fuming.

“And yeah oh god your mouth at night when I’m-”

“Shut up,” And this time there’s a hand slapped over his mouth and Harry nearly comes in his pants because yes Niall is touching him again and he can feel the tingle of breath on the back of his neck.

“Stop saying shit like that, it’s-it’s not right,” Niall breathes, and the brunette laughs, a bitter laugh that makes Niall’s hand grip at his chin until he’s staring right at him.

“What is it gonna take for you to just stop?”

And he’s still laughing because they both know that that’s never going to happen.

 

**

 

“You fucking did what?” Liam sighs once he’s gotten them all a pint.

Harry drinks it like it’s water before he speaks

“I was just being honest.”

“You were getting somewhere with him you cunt,” Louis chastises but Harry doesn’t really care that they’re not on his side with all this.

“It’s like you want rejection,” Liam adds but they just don’t get it, Niall likes it.

“It’s never not nice to hear that someone wants you,” Zayn says with a knowing smile.

“The point is, Harry doesn’t know what he wants,” Liam counters and there seems to be a little tension in the air between the two of them.

“He knows enough,” The darker skinned boy snaps and fuck Harry thinks that maybe he isn’t the only one with some issues at the table.

“Alright lads, no need to have a pissing contest,” Louis laughs but it’s a not real, Harry can tell.

There’s silence

“I’m, er- sorry for that,” Zayn offers up with a tight smile and Liam seems to take the apology.

There’s more to it all than there seems.

 

**

 

He showers once he’s home, it’s late and he’s tipsy but he needs to cleanse himself, feels like he’s so dirty lately.

His mum isn’t in, she’s working another late shift and he thinks that that’s a good thing because he really can’t deal with her disappointment again.

Gemma’s room is silent and Harry sort of wants to wake her so that he can have a little bit of a wallow, make her tell him something so bullshit that he has to smile.

He doesn’t though, because there’s definitely someone knocking on the front door, definitely someone standing outside in the rain for him.

He’s cold as he pads down the stairs languidly, towel wrapped firmly around his hips and who the actual fuck is it? It’s nearly two in the fucking morning.

There’s a moment wherein he wants to check through the spyhole but fuck it he’s a bit intoxicated and maybe a good surprise is what he needs.

When he actually opens the door he verges on manic laughter.

“Niall?” And he’s drenched from head to toe, blonde hair flat against his forehead with his teeth chattering continuously.

Harry’s fairly sure he’s hallucinating, that maybe someone’s drugged one of his pints.

“You gonna let me in or what eh?” Niall shivers, hands shoved into his jacket pockets and _what_ is going on?

He’s caught off guard and silent but Niall actually looks to be pleading with him.

“Come on Harry,” He says and yeah Harry moves aside so that he can step past him.

They stare at each other for a moment in the narrow hallway, Harry wanting to reach out touch at Niall just to make sure that he’s real.

His blue eyes are the only light in the dark that’s surrounding them and for once Harry’s breathless, completely breathless.

“What are you doing here?” He whispers, still remembering that he’s not alone and that Gemma is upstairs.

Niall bites at his lip, keeps it there as he stares at the swallows decorating Harry’s chest and something just doesn’t seem right.

“Hey,” The brunette murmurs, warm hand flitting briefly to Niall’s cheek so that he’ll actually look at him “It’s alright.”

The Irish boy is still shaking and Harry’s sobered up enough now to know that he needs to get Niall into some dry clothes.

He gestures for him to keep quiet and then he’s pulling Niall upstairs behind him and into the safety of his room.

“I’m s-sorry,” Niall mumbles as he leans back against the solid wood of the door and Harry lets light flood into the room so that he can see him properly.

“You’re freezing,” He states, unhappy with the prospect of Niall getting ill when he can prevent it “Take your clothes off.”

Niall does so with haste, shoves his ridiculously tight jeans down and Harry can’t help but watch as beautiful skin becomes exposed to him.

He really had not seen the night progressing in this way.

“Harry,” Niall whines one he’s stripped down, arms covering his chest and Harry doesn’t actually know what it is that he needs right now.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” He soothes, stepping closer to him but Niall only flinches like he’s afraid to be touched and that hurts.

And then Harry’s tugging at his own hair with infuriation

“What do you want then?” He snaps and he shouldn’t but he can’t help it, he fucking hates mind games.

Niall looks wounded, but it doesn’t stop him from shoving past Harry and climbing into his bed.

Harry thought he was good at mind fucking, but Niall, he’s got this hands down. The fact that Niall is against his bedsheets just makes him even angrier, because he wants for Niall to seek warmth from him only.

And if that’s how Niall is going to play it.

He stalks over to the bed, drops his cotton towel and slips right up next to him.

He can hear Niall’s breath catching as opposed to feel it because he isn’t actually touching him.

“How do you know where I live Niall?”

He doesn’t really care, thinks he likes the idea that maybe Niall is stalking him, because that’d be hot, knowing he was fucked too.

“You’re naked,” Niall says, voice partially muffled from where he’s pressing his face into _Harry’s_ pillow.

Harry wants to roll his eyes but bites his tongue instead, he always sleeps naked and Niall’s hardly been invited so hosting skills don’t apply. Not that they really ever do for Harry.

“Tell me why you’re here,” And now he’s demanding because he deserves to fucking know that at least.

He can hear the deep swallow Niall takes as he turns over and wraps himself around Harry.

His vision darkens for a second with the fact that Niall is initiating something and touching all of his skin.

“I want intimacy,” He reveals finally, lips softly moving against Harry’s shoulder and it all makes sense to him now, Niall just wants a cuddle, wants to know that someone cares.

“You can touch me,” He follows on shyly, calf across Harry’s knee and Harry knows that he doesn’t mean it in the way that Harry’s been lusting after.

And right now he doesn’t mind, because he’s never felt so close to another person, has never let anyone infiltrate his space like this.

His hand strokes at Niall’s knee under the duvet before he leaves it to rest there and look at the blonde who’s right here with him.

“I’m tired.”

But Niall’s lips are already parted, the sight of his sleeping face makes Harry dream of thunder and lightning.

 

**

 

Harry hasn’t felt this kind of heat in a long time, the kind where’s he’s stifled but it’s also oh so good and he doesn’t want to get rid of it.

It’s here and plastered against his back, wrapped around his torso and it’s Niall.

The heat is Niall.

And Harry can’t move, can barely feel his toes but he doesn’t care, because Niall is right here.

His room is dark, and he knows that it’s still early morning; he always sleeps in rough patches.

The breath against his neck is shallower now that he’s focusing on it, the kind of breath that indicates that maybe Niall isn’t asleep either.

“M’ burning up,” Harry mumbles softly and there’s quiet and then Niall shifts a little behind him but not all too much.

“You’re fine,” Niall states, arms so tight around Harry that he can barely breathe with it all.

He tries to turn in the embrace but Niall stills him

“Stop fidgeting.”

Harry wants to murder him, wants to fuck him raw.

He’s pliant though, lets Niall have whatever power this is over him for now because it’s not going to last for long, not if Harry has anything to do with it.

“Are you going to touch me then?” Harry snarks, aching heat spreading through his legs and towards his groin. There’s only so much he can take.

“I am touching you Harry,” Niall replies and Harry nearly swallows his own tongue.

“You know what I mean,” He muses, voice an octave lower and the hands that are on his stomach are pressing into him harder than before.

“No,” Niall insists, but as his voice says one thing his palms are saying another, gliding along the planes of Harry’s abdominal muscles and then coming to rest at his hip bones.

“Go on,” Harry prompts, more like he’s egging Niall on than anything.

But Niall just pats him, literally pats his bone repeatedly.

“Are you petting me?” Harry asks incredulously, but it’s close to a whine if anything because Niall’s laugh vibrates against him.

Harry could just push those hands down to his crotch but he wants Niall to initiate it, get him out of his shell.

And fuck, Niall’s touching his thigh gently, tracing a circular pattern onto his skin like Harry’s the most delicate thing in the world and Harry groans out in frustration.

“Shhh,” Niall soothes, hot breath creating slight moisture against the curve of Harry’s neck, followed by a soft kiss that has his body melting.

“ _Please_ ,” He’s never begged but now, right now, he’ll do anything for release from Niall, anything to just come like this.

There are more kisses this time, pecks against the length of his shoulder and Harry shudders with anticipation, can feel the sweat gathering along his brow as Niall trails fingers towards his cock which is thicker now.

He just holds him at first, his slick palm loose around the shaft like he’s testing out the feel of it, comparing it to his own and Harry thinks that that’s a fucking hot thought.

“S’heavy,” Niall whispers against him, lips skimming over taught skin as he tightens his grip and strokes experimentally, slowly like he’s got all day and Harry hisses.

He can feel teeth then, nipping at him warningly and his stomach coils again as Niall uses his other hand to touch at his balls.

His back arches involuntarily and Harry’s panting, shallow breaths as Niall finally fucking moves his hand properly, finally jacks him off.

He’s a tease about it, alternating between speeds, going fast so as to get Harry teetering on the edge only to reduce right down, thumbing at the precome that’s leaking everywhere and rolling his balls in his palm.

“Not so talkative now eh?” Niall whispers, lapping at Harry’s ear lobe and squeezing his dick so tight it feels like it could burst.

“I want to fuck your mouth,” He splutters out, because it’s true he does, but he also doesn’t want for Niall to stop jacking him off “You’ve got such a pretty mouth.”

The blonde huffs

“Come on Harry, you can give me better than that,” he licks a long stripe along his lean neck, fist giving long firm strokes that aren’t enough to quench Harry’s hunger.

He can feel the tight coiling of muscle in his abdomen and that delicious tingle at the base of his spine rear its head but he’s not quite there yet, needs more of everything.

“Ni-” he pleads after what seems to be hours of more pleasurable torture, and Niall hums like this is nothing, before biting down hard on Harry’s shoulder and sucking.

Harry cries out, can’t help it, because it’s scorching, the pain of it all and Niall is jerking his cock so fast that his body goes rigid as he cums over Niall’s fist.

He can’t move, can’t even lift his head to see Niall wiping jizz all over his sheets or the shine of red on his lips from where he’s broken through Harry’s skin.

“Told you I’d give you what you needed,” Niall’s voice murmurs, and it’s a little while longer before Harry gets his bearing back, can actually breathe normally again.

The Irish boy is still settled against his back, a snug fit right up there behind him and fuck Niall is hard, Harry can feel him digging into his thigh.

“I wanna-” His dry mouth speaks but Niall hushes him for the umpteenth time and cradles him back to sleep.

 

**

 

He wakes up to an empty bed, half expects to find Niall still attached to him but as his fingers spread over the cool bedsheet beside him he knows that Niall’s been gone for a while now.

 

**

 

“I hate this place,” Harry murmurs the next time he and Lou are alone, just the two of them.

Louis is lying next to him on the grass, hand held high as he traces the shapes of clouds with his finger.

“You hate everything,” Lou sighs, not really perturbed by the comment.

“Don’t you ever feel like there’s more to life than just _this_?”

He sits up and tugs his jacket around his torso tighter, eyes cast down to look at his best friend.

Louis snorts

“There’s always going to be more to life Harry, no matter what we have or do it’s in our nature to wonder what if.”

“Well then what are we supposed to do about it?”

“Whatever the hell we want.”

 

**

 

When Harry sees Niall again he doesn’t ask him why he ran, doesn’t think he wants to know the true reason.

“You alright?” Niall asks him standoffishly when they next have a class together, but it’s tense and he’s evidently nervous, no doubt regretting what’s gone on between them.

Harry doesn’t care anymore, doesn’t care if Niall is scared or rueful because it’s all been of his own doing.

He doesn’t reply and Niall looks hurt but so is Harry and Niall deserves to feel what he feels.

 

**

 

He sees his mum for what feels like the first time in weeks, she’s sat at the kitchen table with her hair pulled back from her face and she looks tired.

She smiles when he sits down with her, sips her tea momentarily before speaking

“How’s school going?”

And he hates when she asks that, when she asks about anything really because he’s a teenager and he’s moody but that’s not her fault.

“It is what it is.”

Anne sighs, and he can see she’s trying not to grow frustrated with his defiance.

So what he says next is more for her than himself.

“I’m trying mum, I really am.”

It’s a half-truth but it makes his mum’s eyes light up with something he hasn’t seen in a long while.

“That’s all I want,” She says quietly and then Harry’s gone.

 

**

 

Niall finds him in the sixth form toilets a few days later, Harry doesn’t know if he’s been expecting this or not.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry okay,” Niall stammers as he stands a few feet away from where Harry is washing his hands.

He watches the Irish boy in the mirror momentarily, then straightens his back as he wipes his palms on his jeans and stares at Niall intently; ready to listen to whatever it is that’s going to come out of his mouth.

Because no doubt he’s going to have something to say.

“I like you Harry, but it- you frighten me and… and I’m just really sorry.”

Harry doesn’t want to hear anymore apologies, especially not from Niall, lovely Niall who’s fucking with his head so royally and deep down he loves it.

“Prove it,” He finds himself saying, voice colder than what he usually reserves for Niall.

Niall looks confused but he’s no idiot, he knows what Harry means and yeah it’s a toilet and anyone could walk in but that’s all part of the challenge.

He extends a tanned hand to Niall and waits, relaxes when Niall takes it and then pulls him into the ‘privacy’ of a stall, lock sliding shut.

“You are a pain,” Harry tells him, but it’s so fond that he can’t help his wolfish grin as he latches onto Niall’s mouth, biting at his lower lip sharply and then pulling back.

Niall licks over the cut, swallows down the little trickle of blood and it’s just a little sample of what he did to Harry and the mark he’s left on him.

He’s got one hand on Niall’s waist, pressing him against the flat of the wall behind him and the other is in his blonde hair, angling his head back so that green eyes can meet blue.

“If you keep pushing me away I might just snap,” He mutters “Is that what you want Ni?”

“No,” He breathes, pulse straining against the stretch of his skin and Harry lunges for it, sucks hard making Niall cry out in a way he hasn’t heard before.

“Hush now,” He teases “Wouldn’t want anybody catching us.”

Niall squirms against him and there’s a tempting glare in his eye as he stares at Harry’s low hanging head.

Harry kisses him again, forceful and he can hear the pressure of Niall’s skull against the creaking toilet divider. Niall’s tongue seems to be chasing his and Harry rumbles deep within his chest because Niall is needy, Niall is his.

Harry pulls away again with lips that are obscenely slick and Niall has his gaze trained on them.

“I’m going to suck your cock now,” He tells Niall quietly and he only has a moment to enjoy the way in which his eyes widen before he’s dropping to his knees before the blonde.

“Harry you ca-”

But he isn’t having Niall tell him what he’s capable of

“Shut the fuck up,” He snaps, intent on getting what he wants.

They haven’t got much time, no matter how much Harry wants to drag this out, and he needs to see Niall cum, it’s been driving him crazy.

There’s no fumbling when he unbuttons Niall’s jeans, no awkward lingering because Harry knows how this is going to go and Niall is going to love it.

He glances at Niall’s cock once it’s exposed to him and it’s pretty but fuck it tastes prettier when he swallows it down whole.

Niall yelps, unprepared for it and then his hand is in Harry’s hair, seemingly trying to pull him off yet closer all at once.

Harry can’t help but smirk around him as he sucks the length down, nose brushing against Niall’s wiry pubic hair and fingernails digging crescent shapes into his arse cheeks.

“Fuck Harry, Harry slow down,” Niall pants above him, eyes screwing shut as Harry looks up at him.

He pulls off and licks at the beads of precome leaking from the head, Niall doesn’t taste of much, slightly sweet and Harry likes it, likes it a lot.

“I want you to cum down my throat okay?” He muses, taking the tip into his mouth and working the entire length in, relishing in the jerks of Niall’s hips that push him into Harry further without actually meaning to.

He’s looking down at him now, watching his cock disappear into Harry’s mouth and Harry knows that Niall’s gonna do just that.

Niall is making an array of sounds and it’s so hot, he never wants it to stop but then there are voices and Niall’s eyes widen in panic.

Harry comes off for air, brings a finger up to his lips to indicate an upkeep of silence before getting back to his task at hand.

Niall has a fist in his mouth, white knuckles under white teeth and he’s so close, Harry can tell from the way his back is arching and then he extends his tongue to Niall’s balls on his decent and that’s it.

Niall is silently screaming against his hand and Harry swallows down the thick, hot spurts that are filling his mouth, humming with pleasure and savouring every last bit.

He pulls back once Niall’s gone soft.

The voices are gone and Niall is trembling like he’s boneless.

Harry stands like he’s totally unaffected, cradles Niall’s face in his hands as he peppers his cheeks with kisses.

“You are disgusting,” Niall whines and Harry can’t help but laugh.

 

**

 

He takes Niall with him when Louis calls, thinks he needs to start integrating him into more aspects of his life because Niall’s not a dirty little secret, if anything he’s the only thing Harry wants people to see him for.

He and Louis get along, which is unsurprising, because how could anyone dislike Niall, he’s placid, funny and an all-round genuine person. Those are Harry’s favourites, the ones who are nice for no reason. He wishes he could be like that.

He’s not though, doesn’t think he ever will be and maybe that’s something he’s just going to have accept. He’s never going to be good enough for Niall, never going to truly deserve him but Niall’s somewhat his now and Harry isn’t going to let go.

Louis is intrigued by Niall’s ethic background, asks him so many questions that Harry’s not even thought of asking, he’s been too infatuated with Niall physically, he doesn’t know how to be normal.

Louis then sets about his usual routine, produces alcohol from his Nike bag and Harry’s hoping there will be something entertaining in store for the next few hours. They’re right typical teenagers, drinking off-licence booze in Louis’s room, sneaking cheeky smokes out the window.

Louis’s family is huge, Harry likes it.

“Didn’t know what you’d like Niall,” Louis says, which is a null statement because he hadn’t even known Harry was going to bring Niall along.

Niall smiles anyway, it’s tight and Harry wants him to relax, wants to lean into his side and feel his warmth.

“Do the honours Hazza,” The brunette orders and passes the bottle of jack over and Harry winces, because this shit takes like fucking piss.

He and Niall are sat side by side not far from the window, Louis resting against his bed only a few inches away. It’s not the biggest room.

Harry listens to the satisfying crack of the seal as he opens it and then swigs as much as his mouth will allow.

Niall’s blue eyes are watching him, a sheen to them that’s caused by the exposed lightbulb hanging above and it’s rather enthralling.

The blonde goes next, swallows it down rhythmically and Harry tries not to watch as his throat contracts.

“Take a lot for you to get bladdered?” Louis asks Niall as he takes his turn.

Niall shrugs “By then I can hardly remember,” and Lou laughs, satisfied with the answer and it all seems a bit surreal.

 

**

 

“So what’s the deal with you two?” Louis enquires two hours on and it’s the silence from Niall that makes him question it all.

 

**

 

Niall stays with him for the night, his buzz evident as they shut themselves away from the rest of the world.

Gemma is away and his mum is working yet another night shift, the hours making it hard for Harry to communicate with her at all.

He lets Niall make a sandwich for himself and ultimately decides to forego food because his mind is preoccupied by other things, which seems to be a common occurrence for him lately.

They sit opposite each other on his soft couch, the silence not so much awkward as it is ominous, he has no idea where anything Niall leads anymore and he doesn’t like that.

He’s used to having what he deems to be control.

So yeah what he does next is taking advantage, and it is wrong but he doesn’t care, he wants Niall as drunk as he can get him without passing out.

“Don’t need any more alcohol,” He murmurs as Harry gets him a beer but ends up drinking it anyway. And then another.

He doesn’t fail to notice what Harry’s up to.

“You want me drunk.”

Harry smirks because there’s no point in denying it, he likes Niall being vulnerable.

This hadn’t been the initial plan, but seeing as when asked, Niall thinks that nothing is an acceptable answer for their situation; Harry wants to give him a taste of what that would really be like.

“You’re trying to punish me,” Niall muses again and Harry hates how Niall can do this, can see what he really is.

There’s quiet and then Niall is snorting, swallowing the last of his ale and saying

“Have it your way then.”

 

**

 

The TV plays in the background, relatively quiet, yet not so that Niall’s breathing isn’t drowned out.

He’s pressed alongside Harry, hair in the brunette’s face as they watch the screen in front of them.

Niall can’t seem to lay still, fidgets every few minutes, then finally decides to huff out a breath and turns to curl up against Harry’s chest.

His mouth isn’t far from soft skin and Harry doesn’t really know if this is what he wants and then realises of course it is, he’s eager for Niall to make a first move so that he can deliver a stinging blow of rejection.

“Come on, Harry,” He whispers, mouth so darn close but Harry refuses to  look at him, a rage still settled within him that he can’t fight.

“You know as well as I do that there’s something going on between us,” Niall hums and then touches the skin of Harry’s back, fingers warm.

“And so does Louis,” he continues “I’m not going to fall into these traps Harry; you’re the only person that has to really know it.”

And yeah Niall is drunk, but obviously not that drunk and the desperate part of Harry wants to believe him.

“I’ve read you all wrong,” Harry mumbles.

“Yeah, yeah you have,” Niall replies before kissing him.

 

**

 

Niall’s greedy with his touches when they finally end up in bed, pale skin flush and exposed.

Harry loves it and hates it all the same.

“We’re playing each other,” He sighs as Niall moves above him, mouth wet against his chest.

“I’ll stop if you do,” he retorts, mouthing at a nipple and Harry’s had it, has had enough of Niall and his teasing. Alcohol turns him into an animal.

Harry’s stronger and Niall really ought to remember that because it’s only a second within which he can regain the physical control.

He proves that point as he pushes Niall into the mattress, nudges himself between spread white thighs and sucks at the flesh covering a collar bone.

“I’m yours Harry,” He promises, hands on his cheeks as he gets Harry to look at him, and the sheer sincerity in his eyes is enough for him.

Harry kisses him and Niall makes these breathy little sounds, tries to get friction on his crotch but Harry has him pinned, and Harry will always have Niall pinned.

 

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr or send me prompts Narrywillbethedeathofme


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